The Master
by SummerMess
Summary: Slash. AU! A retelling of the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale. RL/SB.
1. He Lost to a Beast

_**Disclaimer**__: Any recognizable characters/themes most likely belong to either JK Rowling or Angela Carter._

_**Summary**__: Completely AU! A story inspired by (but only slightly similar to) Angela Carter's short story 'The Tiger's Bride'. _

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**Part 1**- He Lost to a Beast

Everyone knew the Master of the castle possessed more riches than any one being could ever hope to use.

It was for this fact alone that the two figures now stood outside the dark, ominous castle— in the middle of winter—with nothing more than a pack of cards and a rucksack filled with a small fortune.

The figure closest to the door, a large, portly man with rosy cheeks and an eager smile on his round face, raised his large fist to the door and banged hard twice.

When no movement was heard, the man turned to look at his companion.

The young man was a significantly smaller being than himself; he was, without a doubt, the larger man's opposite in every way imaginable. That thought did not seem to upset the man. After smiling encouragingly at his companion, he turned back to knock once more.

As he raised his grubby fist, ready to pound considerably harder this time (for he was _intent_ on getting inside) the door swung open silently and revealed the elegant, impressive entrance hall of the castle.

Licking his lips, the man stepped inside quickly, not looking back to see the uncertain expression on the young man's face.

The large man gazed around the room, his eyes excitedly taking in all the expensive possessions—crystal chandeliers, flawless paintings, golden candelabra—and further inside, at the foot of a large, marble staircase—a giant sculpture of a strong, handsome young man—his chin held high in a proud and haughty manner, his long hair tied back: the image of a gentleman.

The man was in quite a mind to load his rucksack with as many small, golden knick knacks he could fit in there when the sound of someone clearing his throat turned his attention to a doorway at his left.

"Can I help you?"

The voice came from a tall, thin man who, although he spoke clearly with what sounded like an English accent, appeared to be foreign.

"Forgive me—us—" the large man glanced back toward the main doorway where the younger man still stood. "For intruding. We have been staying in the village for awhile now. We have…heard things."

The man paused, a sudden bout of nervousness overcoming him; until the glimmer of a golden candelabrum caught his eye.

"I have a proposition for the Master of the house," he said confidently.

The foreign man, undoubtedly a servant, surveyed him with a look of distrust on his pale face.

"The Master does not like visitors."

The large man laughed; a wheezy chuckle that echoed in the large room.

"So I've heard. Apparently he is not one to turn down a challenge though," the man raised an eyebrow in question as he held up a deck of cards.

The servant hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure what his master would disapprove of more—disturbing his privacy by welcoming in the large man or turning away a chance at a challenging round of cards. His eyes flickered towards the figure waiting outside and he seemed to make up his mind in an instant.

"Follow me."

The portly man smiled his crooked, eager smile in delight and reached back to pull the young man inside.

They followed the servant up the grand staircase and through several corridors—all lavishly decorated. The castle was silent but for the sounds of their heavy, snow-covered boots hitting the marbled floor.

When they finally reached the tall double doors at the end of one of the many corridors, the servant turned to regard them once more.

"Wait here."

The servant entered the room and the door clicked shut softly behind him.

The older man turned to whisper to his companion.

"This is it, son. We're going to be rich again. I can feel it in my bones."

The young man said nothing but as soon as the doors swung open in invitation, he offered the man a small, worried smile in response.

The Master's study was larger than any one room they had ever seen.

It was a dark room—filled with luxurious black furniture made of leather and cherry wood. At the far end of the room there was a roaring fire from which came the only light in the study. Next to the fire was a leather chair in which sat a large, ominous figure whose face was completely concealed by the darkness.

Standing next to the chair was the tall, thin servant.

"Come closer," he instructed. "The Master wishes to see you."

The older man, spurred on by how he imagined the night would end, rushed forward to introduce himself.

"And who is the young man behind you?" the servant asked.

"Remus," he answered quickly. "My son. He will not disturb us while we play, I assure you."

A soft, growling sound came from the seated figure and the servant nodded almost imperceptibly in response.

"Very well. If you'll take a seat, Mr. Lupin," he indicated a large chair across from the other table. "It is time to begin."

* * *

The young man sat on the dark sofa, a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach.

His father had not won more than two hands the entire evening and still he continued to play. The small fortune he and his father possessed was dwindling away and he felt helpless to stop it.

The two of them had travelled far to gamble their money away.

Some whispers coming from a dark alleyway had spoken of a Beast. A rich Beast. One who was neither liked nor disliked, not loved nor hunted—a Beast that merely existed.

The Beast would not show his face, or his hands, or any other bit of himself that suggested at his nature. He was a beast who loved his solitude and would only break it for the occasional challenge that a game of cards could provide.

His father had not needed to hear any more. John Lupin was exceptional at cards and convinced himself that this was an opportunity they could not miss out on.

They had trekked through the harsh winds and freezing snow; making their way to the beast's castle to rebuild their fortune.

His father, for all his flaws, loved him—that much he knew. So when he looked up at the sound of desperation tainting the older man's voice as he pleaded with the Beast and his servant for one more chance, one more hand, he could not explain why he suddenly felt worried.

The Beast sat up straighter in his chair. His entire body, including his hands, were covered by his long, black robe. The hood had been pulled up to conceal his face but the change in position, the slight straightening of his back, had allowed the light from the fire to hit his eyes.

The young man stifled a gasp. It was not so much that the sight scared him but he had not expected to see _any_ part of the Beast and the fact that he had, gave him a small thrill.

The Beast's eyes were the most unusual shade of gray as they studied his father, contemplating whether or not to grant him his one request.

The gray eyes flicked towards him suddenly, lingered, then turned back to the older man.

He growled softly to his servant.

"The Master will allow you one more chance," the servant whispered. "If you win, he will double your fortune."

The older man smiled in delight.

"If you lose," he continued. "You must leave the castle immediately and never return."

The man's smile faltered only slightly.

"But," the servant continued. "your son must stay."

The man looked startled.

"You want Remus to stay here? But why?"

"Do you agree, Mr. Lupin?"

The man took a deep breath but did not look once towards his wide-eyed son.

"Yes, yes, I agree."

Remus did not know that his heart could beat so hard.

* * *

The fact that John Lupin lost to the Beast was only surprising to the man himself.

He looked imploringly at his son for forgiveness.

"Please," he begged the Beast. "One more chance."

The Beast growled softly but it was once again the servant who replied.

"You agreed, Mr. Lupin. It is time for you to go. I will arrange for a carriage to take you both back to the village where your son will collect his belongings and return to the castle immediately."

"Please," the man begged again. "My wife is dead. My fortune is gone. Remus is all I have left."

The Beast's growl was louder this time and in a flash he had stood—imposing and furious—and banged his covered paw hard on the table.

The drinks they had toppled over in his fury.

"You should not gamble with things you are not prepared to lose."

The Beast's voice was harsh and threatening—he had all but growled the words—and it left the old man in no doubt of the Beast's vicious nature.

The servant stepped forward again.

"It is time to go, Mr. Lupin," he insisted.

The man turned his small, beady eyes to his son. "Forgive me, Remus."

The fire lit up the boy's golden eyes and illuminated the betrayal he felt. The boy returned his father's gaze but merely shook his head as he turned to follow the servant out of the room.

His father had gambled him away like he was nothing more than a gold coin.

His father had lost him to a beast.

* * *

The goodbye was swift and almost non-existent.

His father had offered to hold the coach driver off so Remus could collect his belongings and run.

Remus merely shook his head once more.

One of them had to take responsibility for his father's actions and, as he helped lift his trunk onto the back of the carriage, he felt a twinge of pride that it would be him.

He had to be brave.

The ride back to the castle was almost unbearable though. He thanked his pride for keeping him still in his seat but he could not help imagining all of the horrible things that would happen to him once he returned to the castle.

He belonged to the Beast.

Would it want to hurt him? To hunt him? Would he be a servant? A companion? He knew the Beast loved his solitude so why did he allow—order—Remus to return?

He was startled out of his musings by the gruff voice of the driver.

"Alright back there?"

"Yes, thank you," he replied.

"You know you're the first person the Master has taken an interest in in a long time. You must be something special."

The young man swallowed hard but was unsure how to respond to that and remained quiet.

The driver did not appear to be offended as he looked back and studied him for a quick moment.

"You can't be more than twenty," he mumbled.

"Eighteen," he answered softly.

"Still," the driver said after he clicked his tongue. "Not far off the Master's age."

"What?" he asked before he could stop himself. "The way the villagers talked about him, I thought he couldn't be far off fifty."

"Oh no," the driver laughed. "I've known the Master since he was just a little one. No, no…it wasn't all that long ago that he was running around the castle terrorizing the poor maids."

Remus turned to stare out at the darkened woods as they edged closer to the looming castle.

"Here we are, sir," the driver stepped out onto the white, powdery snow and offered a hand to the young man. "If you'll just wait in the entrance hall, Lumiere will show you back to the study. I'll be sure your trunk makes it safely to your room."

* * *

The walk to the Beast's study was long and terrifying. It was well past midnight and the young man could not think of one reason why the Beast would need to see him so urgently.

Stepping into the dark room once more, he wondered if the Beast had even left his chair that evening.

The gray eyes were once again concealed by the hood of the robe and Remus felt an unexpected pang of disappointment.

The servant walked around the boy and crossed the room to take his place by his Master's side.

Remus remained close to the door, hesitant to step any further into the darkness without knowing the Beast's intentions.

"Come in closer, Remus," the servant's tone was gentler than when he had addressed the man's father. "The Master wishes to see you in the light."

He stepped forward slowly, the trepidation he felt at the situation showing through in his downcast eyes and shaking hands. He stopped a few feet from the Beast's chair.

This close he could see the gray, glittering eyes reflecting the firelight once more.

His heart sped up.

The servant nodded in approval and bent down so the Beast could whisper the next instructions in his ear.

Remus could not be sure if it was the fire casting shadows on the thin man's face or perhaps the heat of the room but he thought he could see a faint blush tinge the servant's cheeks as he straightened up.

"The Master w—," he paused to clear his throat and started again. "The Master does not wish to keep you here against your will. He has one demand."

The man's stomach tightened.

"If fulfilled," the servant continued. "You may return home to your father."

Remus struggled to maintain his slow, steady intake of breath. He could not bring himself to look into the gray eyes.

"The Master wishes you to remove your clothing."

Remus felt his hands resume their trembling against his will.

"You will stand before him, uncovered, until he bids you goodnight."

Remus hoped he could continue to keep his breathing under control.

"You will do this every night for one week—at the end of which, you will be free to go."

He bit his lip and mustered all of the courage he had to look into the Beast's haunting eyes.

He had expected bitterness…fury…triumph. But there was none. The gray eyes looked at him with a penetrating stare.

The Beast looked ashamed.

Remus felt anger well up inside of him—his fear momentarily forgotten.

"No," he whispered harshly.

The servant had the decency to look taken aback.

"No I will not bare myself to a Beast."

The Beast turned away from the golden eyes, his own gray orbs shutting tightly in shame.

"I cannot stop you from whatever it is you wish to do to me," he whispered angrily. "But I will not willingly humiliate myself in front of you."

The Beast stood up, towering over the boy, and for a moment Remus thought he might attack him, kill him, for not obeying. But the Beast merely stormed from the room, the tall oak doors slamming on their hinges as he violently exited the study.

Remus turned to find the servant studying him with narrowed eyes before grabbing his arm and leading him out of the room.

Remus was too dazed to argue.

The room he was led to was as luxurious and well-decorated as the rest of the castle.

The servant nodded at the young man's trunk—indicating that this was to be his room—and turned to go. With his back to Remus, he hesitated for a moment in the doorway.

"The Master did not wish to humiliate you," he said softly.

The servant was gone before Remus could respond.

* * *

The following day, Remus woke to the sun shining through his tall windows; its light reflecting on the white covers of his large bed.

He rubbed his eyes, the events of the previous evening leaving an unsettled, sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. A flash of light to his left caused him to turn to the bedside table.

There was a small box wrapped in shiny, silver paper sitting atop the expensive wood; a folded piece of paper with the boy's name on it lying underneath.

He reached for it.

_A gift from the Master._

He frowned at the note and carefully tore the paper from the box.

On silky, red fabric lay a silver clasp—the outline of a rose engrained into it.

The boy's frown deepened. He returned the small treasure to the box quickly and left it on the table as he crossed the room to the windows.

It was a lovely day. There was a new layer of snow covering the ground and Remus noticed the castle garden for the first time. The winter sunshine and the soft snow made it appear much less threatening than it had the night before. He wondered if the Beast ever roamed the grounds—or was walking perhaps too human an action? He looked past the garden and saw the sinister woods lurking at the edge of the perfectly trimmed hedge. Could _that_ be where the Beast roamed?

A sharp knock pulled him from his thoughts.

The plump, round face of an older lady appeared behind the door and she smiled kindly at him.

"Good morning, dear," she greeted. "Did you sleep well?"

He could not bring himself to do more than shrug in response. He _had_ slept well but something inside of him did not want anyone to know this small, irrelevant fact.

"How about a spot of breakfast and then a nice ride around the grounds on one of the Master's horses?" she offered.

He was in half a mind to refuse but his growling stomach betrayed him almost instantly at the mention of food.

"May I ride alone?" he asked softy, praying she did not catch the hopefulness in his voice.

She smiled again.

"Of course, dear. The Master will not wish to see you until the evening."

The boy's stomach twisted at the thought of seeing the Beast again but he obediently followed the elderly woman down the hall to the main entrance.

As they passed the sculpture of the handsome gentleman at the foot of the staircase, the boy felt a chill run down his back.

The rush of pleasure he felt was gone before he had time to analyze it.

* * *

The castle grounds were vast and beautiful.

The boy could not believe that one being could have so much land all to himself.

He guided the mare around the grounds once more before reluctantly turning back to the stables.

It was nearing dusk—the cold winter having stolen away many of his precious hours of daylight—and he knew it was time to return to the castle.

As the mare trekked across the snow covered path from which they'd come, it tossed its head merrily—no doubt pleased to be out on the grounds.

The change in its mood was so sudden that Remus had no time to think of what might have caused it.

The mare was spooked by something.

It had jumped back, rearing up on its hind legs, and was off in the opposite direction before Remus could even attempt to calm it.

He held on tightly as it sped across the grounds and headed straight into the darkening forest; helpless to slow it down.

The mare galloped and galloped until Remus felt his grip slipping and his backside quickly sliding off the saddle.

He fell to the ground harshly with a loud "oomph" and watched the mare gallop deeper into the forest until he could neither hear nor see her loud hooves.

He stood up warily and looked around the area to see if he could glimpse anything familiar that might lead him back to the castle.

He was surrounded by hundreds of snow covered pines—all held up by strong, thick trunks. He looked to the ground and saw the mare's hoof prints in the snow—pointing him in one direction. With a glance upwards at the quickly disappearing sunshine, he began his trek back towards the castle at a brisk pace.

He did not make it twenty steps before he heard the low, threatening growls on either side of him.

Wolves.

He turned to look at the one to his left, his breath quickening. The yellow eyes stared at him hungrily and the wolf licked its lips in anticipation of its evening meal.

It leapt forward suddenly, jaw open, and Remus had to duck to avoid the attack. He took off at a run—continuing in the same direction he had been going moments before.

The wolves were quick; spurred on by the hunger caused by cold, still winters.

It was only moments before he was surrounded by five large, growling animals again.

Remus looked around, desperately trying to find a way out.

As the largest wolf of the pack lunged at him once more he was sure the sharp teeth would pierce his skin in an instant and he braced himself for the pain.

Yet the teeth never came.

The wolf had been thrown roughly into one of the many trees around them. Remus turned to find a cloaked figure jumping down from a large, black horse and one by one throwing the angry wolves away from him.

The Beast must have thought he had tried to escape and come for him.

The wolves leapt at the figure and bit into his arms and legs with fury but the Beast was stronger and managed to continue throwing them off. It was not long until the pack retreated into the forest; their howls of anger echoing in the distance.

The Beast turned to face Remus and the boy watched in awe as he lifted the sleeve of his cloak to remove his gloves.

The tall figure reached out a roughened hand_—a hand?—_to touch Remus' cheek.

_Where was the Beast?_

The man's face was covered—all but his eyes—and Remus couldn't help but gasp when he saw the familiar gray orbs studying him hungrily.

The man took a deep, shuddering breath before stepping back and looking up at the sky.

A few more minutes and it would be dark.

He appeared to be debating something but, following a quick moment of hesitation, he stepped forward and grasped the boy—tossing him over his broad shoulder and mounting the stallion in one fluid motion.

Remus closed his eyes as they raced through the forest and back towards the castle, only vaguely aware of the blood that soaked his fingers as he grasped tightly onto his rescuer's arms.


	2. Too Cold to Leave Him

**Part 2 – ****Too Cold to Leave Him**

When Remus next awoke, it was to the soft, soothing voice of the maid telling him he was needed in the study.

He lay confused for several minutes before thfe events from the forest came flooding back to him.

The Beast had saved his life.

The thought was terribly disconcerting.

How long had be been asleep?

Remus looked across the room to the tall windows. It was dark outside. It could not have been more than a few hours since they had returned to the castle.

Dressing in a hurry, he raced down the length of the corridor and pushed open the door to the study—surveying the room with concern shining in his big, golden eyes.

The servant was there beside the Beast again, his expression unreadable.

"Take a seat, Remus," he said softly.

The boy obeyed without argument and took the seat his father had occupied only one day before. The sight of his father gambling away their fortune seemed like an old memory; something that had happened long ago.

"The Master would like to offer you a drink but he is not sure of your tastes. I thought perhaps a glass of wine might be to your liking?"

Remus could only nod as the servant appeared to conjure a bottle of red wine and a crystal glass out of thin air. After pouring it and offering the burgundy liquid to Remus—a glass of something stronger already rested on the table in front of the Beast—he bowed and exited the room.

Without the servant, the study was filled with silence…hundreds of long, drawn-out moments in which neither occupant did more than take in slow, steady breaths of air.

What was the Beast waiting for?

With a grimace, he thought back to the conversation from his last visit to the study.

Oh.

He was painfully aware of his newly acquired debt to the Beast but could he really do _that_? Especially after he had been so adamantly against it…accusing the Beast of wishing to humiliate him; reprimanding him for _requesting_ something that he could have _demanded_ from Remus. He remembered the servant's words:

"_The Master did not wish to humiliate you."_

The Beast could have asked for so much more from him. Why hadn't he?

Remus squinted into the darkness that concealed the figure in question.

The image of the wolves lunging, biting, hurting; and the sensation of the dark, red, liquid running through his fingers flashed through his mind and he felt sick with guilt.

Long, heavy moments of silence continued to pass, the guilt tearing horribly at him, bubbling up—he did not know why he felt so strongly about this.

The gratitude, the confusion, and the embarrassment created a dizzying combination. Without having had a single, sweet taste of the red wine, he was beginning to feel drunk.

He wished the Beast would say something.

His heart pounded loudly in his chest, warning him, as he stood up.

No one would know…

As he dazedly reached for the top button of his shirt, opening it with a soft 'pop', he told himself that, if nothing else, he should do this so he could return home to his father. He told himself that he _ought_ to do it so that he could return to his familiar, mundane life that involved travelling around in search of his father's lost fortune. He tried to make it clear to whatever inner being that was spurring him on with all these horrible, foreign feelings that it should most certainly not be because he merely felt guilty.

He tried.

Figuring that the slow, teasing removal of his garments—an act usually reserved for mischievous lovers—would go unappreciated, his fingers fumbled quickly with the buttons.

The Beast made no objections.

When he finished with the last button, he pulled the shirt off and dropped it to the floor.

Still feeling reckless from the onslaught of emotions, he reached down quickly to remove the last of his clothing.

He was naked.

The thought was surprisingly sobering.

A new set of emotions rushed through him. The most prominent and disturbing was the sense of self-consciousness. Everyone, even a Beast, would have preconceptions about what someone else might look like naked. What if he had some horrible flaw he hadn't yet realized he possessed because there had never been a lover to point it out?

He glanced down at his pale, naked body and considered himself as an onlooker might. He was strong enough…the lean muscles on his body could possibly be considered attractive; but his legs, though long, did not succeed in matching the height of the Beast. Up his right thigh, a long, jagged scar glinted in the firelight. Perhaps the hypothetical onlooker might not call him flawless but surely he wouldn't be considered repulsive to a potential lover?

Though the Beast was no potential lover, the insecurity still swelled up inside of him as he looked back up at the dark figure.

Even in the dim light of the fire he could see the Beast had turned away from him.

Whether in disgust, shame or some other unidentifiable emotion, he wasn't sure. He wondered briefly if the Beast had even looked at him at all.

Before he could begin to question how long he was meant to stand there, naked and exposed, the Beast had stood—nearly toppling the table over in the process—and all but fled the room.

As Remus looked around the study, replacing his few, precious pieces of clothing, he felt the humiliation of what he had just done burn a deep blush onto his cheeks.

He downed the glass of wine and left for his room, wishing he had indeed had the excuse of being drunk.

* * *

Whether it was from the dangerous occurrence in the woods or the mortifying encounter in the study, Remus had been positively exhausted.

He did not wake the next day until it was well past three, and even with the many hours of sleep, his body still felt drained.

He stepped out of his room—dressed and ready to agree to the first offer of a meal he received. His feet automatically retraced the steps he had taken to the dining room the day before.

It was not long before he found himself at the base of the stairwell—staring up at the handsome statue.

Without the maid there to urge him past the marble figure, he was able to study the man in the slow, leisurely way he had been wanting to.

Lord, the man was handsome. How someone could manage to look proud, forbidding and thoughtful at the same time was beyond Remus.

But the man in the statue managed it all right.

His eyes were alert and focused, and though there was no trace of a smile on his face, Remus thought he could see a hint of laughter somewhere in his expression. He circled around to the back of the statue in curiosity. The man's broad shoulders were accentuated by the fitted cloak he wore and though his hair was perhaps a bit longer than most men allowed theirs to get—nothing about the man was feminine. In fact, Remus doubted there was anything that could make him appear more masculine.

Just as he was about to tear his eyes away from the entrancing figure, a familiar sight caught his eye. The man's hair was pulled back by a clasp. A clasp that had been engrained with a rose.

He felt a surge of pleasure course through him.

This was who had saved him from the wolves. Even without being able to tell the statue's eye color, he recognized the shape. They were the Beast's eyes too. He lost track of how long he stood staring at the statue, trying to fathom the reason why this handsome man would occupy the body of a Beast every evening.

By the time he finally reached the dining room and politely requested a meal it was nearly five o' clock.

Remus shuddered at the thought of another evening like the last and even the sight of the thin servant holding a tray of rich, warm food did little to calm his nerves. Despite his growing hunger, it took him several moments to swallow the first bite.

"Is the food to your liking, Remus?"

The servant sounded tense and uneasy and Remus wondered if he knew what had occurred the night before.

"Yes, thank you," came his soft reply.

The servant bowed and was turning to go when a sudden, horrifying thought occurred to Remus.

"Did the Beast change his mind about the offer?" he blurted out, grimacing once more at the thought of what he had done.

He was sure he must have embarrassed the poor man but he couldn't help it.

"Did I lose the offer when I refused him on the first evening?" he pressed.

The man turned to face him and frowned. Maybe the Beast _hadn't_ told the servants what Remus had done.

"The Master would never go back on his word, Remus."

Remus let out a shaky breath in relief.

At least last night wasn't completely wasted.

"If you…_do_…exactly as I instructed," the servant continued. "You _will_ be set free."

Even after the servant had gone and he had forced down the rest of his meal, Remus couldn't stop thinking about his last visit to the study…absently wondering why he wasn't more relieved by the promise of freedom.

* * *

Ten minutes until nine.

He stood before the mirror, contemplating his appearance. He was dressed in a white button-up shirt and dark brown trousers—both provided earlier by the kindly maid. Remus might have blushed at his decision not to wear anything underneath his trousers but reasoned with himself that if it would be anything like last night, removing his clothes as quickly as possible was a sure way to get the Beast to excuse him.

Staring intently at his own golden eyes in the reflection, he sighed.

"Six more nights," he told himself firmly.

As he made his way back to the study, he silently prayed that his mask of confidence would hold.

Entering the room with only a moderate amount of shame, he was slightly unsettled to find that the Beast was not in his usual chair.

Tonight the large figure was leaning over the fire, one covered paw resting above the mantelpiece, his back to Remus.

When the Beast did not turn or acknowledge his presence in any way but for the stiffening of his back, Remus genuinely considered returning to his room and leaving the Beast to his solitude. It was only the sight of red, stained bandages on the floor that stopped him.

The feeling of blood dripping through his fingers returned to his mind again and he took an impulsive step forward before he could stop himself.

"I-I never formerly thanked you…for saving my life," he said quietly.

The Beast remained motionless.

Emboldened further, Remus took another few steps. He was almost near enough to reach out and touch the Beast if he wanted to.

"Are you hurt badly?"

He waited for a response for several long, tense seconds, and when none came, he tentatively reached his hand out to touch the Beast's arm—wanting, _needing_,a reaction.

"Let me see," he whispered, trying to lift the sleeve of the large, black cloak.

The Beast yanked his arm back in an instant and cradled it protectively against his chest.

His soft growl echoed in the large room.

Remus stepped back instinctively.

He had no idea what to do and though the Beast had finally turned to face him, a determined silence once again filled the room.

"I—," he started. "Your servant—Lumiere—said you intend to keep your word."

Nothing.

"About…letting me go as long as I…" he trailed off.

Still no response.

"I know you must have changed your mind about wanting to see me," he continued. "But it was your decision to request this particular thing and-and if you're not willing to just let me go home without doing _something _in return then you can just look away like you did last night."

The Beast made a sudden, surprised movement at his words but kept quiet.

The deal was still on then.

Remus wished he could see the gray eyes.

For the first time since he had entered the room that night, he noticed a glass of wine on the table.

He reached for it and swiftly gulped it down.

"So…ah…I'll just…right."

He quickly pulled the white shirt over his head—not bothering with the buttons tonight—and set to work on his trousers.

In that moment, he truly despised the fire.

He wanted to know which part of himself disgusted the Beast but the fire had chosen not to light up the gray eyes as it had before.

Remus' hands shook as he stepped out of his trousers, revealing every inch of his fair skin for the second time.

The Beast made a noise that Remus could not decipher.

There was no doubt in his mind that whether or not the Beast approved of what he saw, he was definitely looking this time.

Remus swallowed hard and waited, fighting down the urge to reach for his clothing.

For a split second, he had imagined the living, breathing being that modelled for the statue standing there looking at him, judging him, and he felt his self-consciousness increase tenfold.

He wondered how good the Beast's hearing was and hated the thought that the sound of his thumping heart might already have reached the sensitive ears.

Still unsure of what to do—_would the Beast _ever_ break his silence?_ — the servant's words played over in his mind like a chorus to his own personal song.

"_The Master wishes you to remove your clothing."_

He would give anything to see the Beast's eyes.

"_You will stand before him, uncovered, until he bids you goodnight."_

He stood still and breathed evenly until the Beast's soft, rumbling voice came from the shadows.

"You may go."

* * *

The following day was spent in the solitude that his bright, spacious bedroom provided.

The minutes were ticking by at an even faster rate than they had the previous afternoon. He laid on the large bed, lost in thought. The maid would bring him a meal, smile at him in a concerned, motherly way, then leave him to contemplate his situation some more.

The memory of the wolves in the forest, viciously attacking the Beast, would replay itself over and over in his mind.

He hoped he was not going mad.

He would recall some new, small detail each time the memory came back to him. The Beast had not uttered a single cry of pain as the sharp teeth pierced his skin. His gray eyes had looked alert and dangerous—definitely not afraid.

Remus marvelled at the thought.

The idea of owing someone his life should have disturbed Remus more than it did.

As he fingered the silver clasp and watched the clock on the wall tick away the precious moments he had to himself, he tried to picture what his father's face would look like when he returned to the village in five days time.

It was too soon to think about something like that.

Dinner came promptly at seven but his appetite still had not returned. Remus shut his eyes to the moonlight streaming in through the high windows and drifted off into a fitful sleep within minutes.

* * *

_When he opened his eyes, it was to find a dark shadow hovering over him…watching._

_He could not see its face._

"Mine_," it growled._

Remus sprang up in bed.

He was shocked to find himself gasping and covered in sweat.

The dream could not have lasted more than a few seconds.

He looked across the room at the clock and nearly cursed when he saw the time.

It was after nine. He was late.

When he reached the study, he saw that it was filled with the same flickering firelight that had been present every evening. The Beast was once again in his chair; the servant absent; the wine waiting.

Right. Probably best not to ask any questions.

"Ah…," he started, glancing at the swirling red wine. "I'm not very thirsty so I'll go ahead and…start."

He reached up to the top button of his white shirt but hesitated before undoing it, a thought suddenly coming to him.

"I don't suppose you could…sit up a bit straighter?" he asked.

From where he stood he could see the Beast tilt his head in inquiry.

For a long while, the crackling fire was the only thing brave enough to break the silence.

_Was he in trouble for asking such a question? Surely the Beast hadn't taken offence…?_

After another long moment in which he contemplated continuing to undress—his request forgotten—he saw the Beast shift his position and straighten his back.

There.

Remus could see the eyes.

He felt more nervous than before but seeing the gray orbs again reminded him of the tall, handsome statue and he felt a slight bit of pleasure that they would be watching him. Only him.

"Thank you," he said softly.

No sound came from the Beast and he took that as his cue to continue.

Reaching for the top button again, Remus slowly removed his shirt—baring his stomach and chest to the Beast in a manner quite unlike before.

He could not look away from the gray eyes.

When he pulled the shirt from his shoulders and tossed it to the chair, he watched the Beast's eyes darken.

He ceased his movement and for a long time they simply stared at one another.

He could not look away.

It was as if the Beast was trying to tell him something; to _explain_ something.

Those eyes...

The moment was broken by a sharp rap on the door.

At the Beast's growl, the servant entered—an apologetic look on his gaunt face.

"Forgive me, Master. Your guest has arrived early…she wishes to speak to you immediately."

The Beast was up in an instant.

Tall and imposing as ever, Remus felt a second wave of pleasure wash over him at their closeness.

It was gone quickly as the Beast swept across the room to follow the servant.

The deep, soothing growl of his voice carried back into the study as he exited.

"You may go."

* * *

It was disappointment.

Remus was sure of it now.

Last night he had been standing on some dark, mysterious precipice that had vanished at the sound of a knock.

A flood of questions, mainly centered on the reason for the interruption, plagued his mind as he lay there that day.

_Who was the guest who had arrived? Was she a Beast like the Master? Was she his lover? His friend?_

It did not matter.

Remus had wasted another day in bed and he had no answers to show for it.

Frustrated, he glanced up at the clock for the thousandth time that day.

_Three-thirty._

There was enough time for him to take a walk and clear his head before returning to the study once more.

Bundled up in his heavy, black cloak and thick boots, he rushed through the corridors, and down the stairs—avoiding the proud statue this time—and swiftly made his way towards the front door of the castle.

"Remus?"

He turned at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Where are you off to now, dear?"

"I thought I'd take a quick walk around the grounds before sunset," he answered, hoping the maid would let him go without question.

"Ah, well. Make sure you're wrapped up warm enough, dear. It won't do to catch a cold," she warned.

"Thank you, I will." He smiled quickly at the lady before heading out into the shining winter sun—breathing in the cold air with relief.

It felt good to be outside.

He raced through the main garden and crossed the grounds until he had a clear view of the castle.

Impressive as ever, his eyes scanned the great many windows in admiration.

He wondered which room belonged to the Beast.

It did not matter.

Sudden movement flashed across one of the windows and he squinted up towards it.

_Could it be the Beast?_

The sound of something cracking startled him and Remus looked down at where he stood. Whatever he was on was covered in snow. He felt the ground sink a bit lower under his feet and he jumped, realizing a moment too late exactly where he was.

Water.

In an instant, he was under it; gasping for air and grappling at broken ice. His hands could not find anything solid to hold onto and his head dipped under the icy water as he continued to struggle. He had always been a fairly good swimmer but now he could hardly move in the freezing water. He wished that someone would see him; that anyone would come.

But no one did.

He held his breath until he felt his lungs constrict; still vainly attempting to find something solid he could use to pull himself out with. His mind began to go fuzzy—he was drowning in the castle waters where no one would ever think to look for him.

Remus could no longer fight his body's natural response to the lack of oxygen; his mouth opened and he sucked in the cold, freezing water.

Everything went black.

* * *

"Leave us at once—all of you! And, you there, tell Lumiere to send for Rosings—NOW!"

"Yes, Master."

The sound of the familiar deep growl awoke the young man from his unconscious state.

He was shaking uncontrollably; he could hardly feel his body and he had a horrible ache in his chest. The effort it took to force his eyes open was extraordinary. Under heavy eyelids, he scanned the room.

It was dark.

He recognized the tall windows across from him and knew he was in his bedroom. He did not pause to wonder how he had gotten there. A few candles had been lit throughout the room and he saw a fuzzy figure hovering over him protectively.

"What happened?" he managed to choke out, unable to stop shivering.

No one answered him.

He watched numbly as his soaking wet clothes were carefully – but quickly – removed from his fragile body.

Still, he could not stop trembling.

The bed sank down beside him and the next thing he knew he felt warm, furry heat encompass him. His body calmed almost instantly.

He was so tired.

Turning to bury his face in the warmth, he allowed sleep to take him, unexplainably calmed by the sound of soft, contented growls and the feeling of something warm and wet lapping at his neck.

* * *

"I _insist_ that you stay in bed, Remus. The Master will understand."

When he had finally awoken from his deep sleep, alone and exhausted, Remus had immediately felt a pang of loss.

_Where had the warm presence gone?_

His movement had caught the attention of one of the maids who positively refused to let him out of bed for more than a few minutes.

It was now after nine in the evening and his insistence that he should go to the study and continue his routine was proving to be fruitless. The maid stood guard over his bed for another half an hour before she was called for by one of the other servants. Believing Remus to be asleep, the earlier reluctance she felt at leaving him had disappeared.

At the soft click of his door shutting behind her, Remus was up and out of bed.

He did not want to waste a moment lingering in the room.

Without a single stitch of clothing covering his stiff, pale body, he grabbed the small box from his bedside table and rushed to the mirror across the room.

He had not had any time to himself that day to analyze what had happened.

According to the maid, the Master had jumped into the freezing water and pulled him out just in time—soaking himself in the process.

He had not asked for more details.

Pulling the small clasp out of the box, he reached up to hurriedly comb his hair back with his fingers; holding it in place with the silver treasure. He was not sure why it was suddenly so important to him to wear it.

He dressed in a hurry and left.

It did not matter that the servants might see him and send him back to bed. He tried to tell himself that he felt compelled to go because it was his responsibility to hold up his end of the agreement…but he had already missed one evening from the accident so why not one more?

The fact was…he _needed_ to go. He was being pulled by something and he was too tired and bemused to try and ignore it.

He did not want to fight it.

Forcefully pushing open the door to the study, he locked eyes with the Beast almost instantly.

The figure sat up slightly in his seat, surprised to see him no doubt, but said nothing.

Remus' heart raced.

Oh lord, did he _want_ to undress for the Beast?

He let the guilt he felt all day spread and explode within him. His fingers all but flew to the top button of his white shirt.

"No."

Remus froze at the word. He watched the figure stand and walk to the opposite end of the room.

In silence, the Beast poured a small glass of wine before walking cautiously back towards Remus. His movements were careful—as if he expected Remus to run from him at any moment.

He handed Remus the glass and moved to stand directly in front of him.

As usual, almost every part of the Beast's faced was covered. Only the eyes were visible. The captivating pools of gray now looked at him as if _he_ were the statue. The Beast studied his eyes, his nose, his lips…then further down…his neck, his covered chest, his stomach…further down…

Remus blushed furiously before he could help it.

As he took a sip of his wine to distract himself, the Beast circled around him once, and returned to his position in front of Remus.

Remus watched in awe, his golden eyes widening, as the Beast lifted his covered arm and pulled back the cloak, revealing his furry arm to Remus.

He had never seen any part of the Beast before. He was shocked by how beautiful, how_ soft_, the fur looked. He raised his eyes to find the Beast watching him intently.

The gray eyes gave him a questioning look; Remus wasn't sure what he was asking permission for but still he nodded at the Beast.

When he raised his furry paw up to touch Remus' face, caressing his cheek softly, Remus thought the action seemed so very…_human_…that for a moment, he imagined it to be the hand of a man.

He closed his eyes.

The Beast continued to softly stroke his face—clearly under the impression that Remus was something that could easily be broken.

All the while, Remus felt the eyes on him; concentrating on his every response.

It was awhile before he felt the paw leave his face, travelling back to touch his hair.

The Beast froze.

He must have felt the clasp. Remus opened his eyes.

The Beast was staring at him with what could only be described as adoration.

As the Beast slid around behind the smaller man, Remus felt his body react unexpectedly. Blood coursed through him faster than it ever had before.

He was aroused.

He felt the Beast lean in close to his ear. Even without experience, Remus knew desire when he heard it.

"You may go."

He nearly cried out.

* * *

It was hard.

He had been up since the first light of the rising sun came shining in through the castle windows.

Time had to have slowed down. He had never had such a long day.

Breakfast, walk, bathe, read, lunch…and still, it was not yet noon. He wasn't sure how much more waiting he could do.

He walked around under the pretence of wanting to explore the castle and, since he had already given his word that he would not leave the safety of the walls without someone accompanying him, it was understandable, even expected, that he would wander around inside.

The pull he felt, however, could not be as easily explained.

_Was it curiosity that was forcing his feet up the stairs? Desire that was guiding him though corridor after corridor until he was sure he would never find his way back to his own room?_

He knew where he stood without even entering.

He was outside the Beast's bedroom.

If only he could just turn around and go back to his room and _wait._

If only the ache that the pull caused had not begun to lessen as he closed in on the Beast.

Holding his breath, he twisted the handle of the large door—trying to convince himself that the worst that could happen was that he would get seen and sent back to his room.

He could feign ignorance. How was he to have known whose bedroom it was?

Remus pushed the door open.

The room was enormous; more than double the size of every other room Remus had seen in the castle. He froze almost instantly.

Something far more captivating than anything else he had ever seen stood by the window.

A man.

Naked.

Remus knew who he must be without seeing his face.

The man from the statue.

The Beast.

He had a strong, muscled back and long, powerful legs—he was by far the best looking person Remus had ever seen. When his eyes travelled down past the man's back, he flushed.

But he couldn't look away.

The dark haired man, clearly lost in his thoughts, did not seem to notice him. The strong shoulders were tensed; something was troubling him. Remus stood there for what might have been hours, watching silently from the doorway—entranced by the sight.

When he was finally able to shake himself from his stupor, he took off running back to his room, wishing he knew what exactly had drawn him to the Beast's bedroom in the first place.

That damn pull.

* * *

The small hand on the clock had just inched past the eight when a knock on his door sounded, startling him. He sat up quickly and crossed the room—surprised that the maid had not let herself in.

But before he even reached the door, a hooded figure had burst in. In an instant, he was up against the wall—the Beast's larger form pressed up close against his.

His heart sped up as the gray eyes bore down into his own.

There was something strange in the Beast's eyes tonight- a _hunger_ that Remus had not seen there before.

He felt the blood rush through him quickly in response. _What was happening to him?_

"She said that you would come to me…that once I found you I wouldn't be able to let you go," the desire was so thick in the Beast's voice that Remus struggled not to shiver at the sound.

The Beast leaned in to bury his nose in Remus' neck—breathing in the scent he found there and groaning.

He felt the Beast's arousal pressing into his hip.

"She said you would be my weakness…that I wouldn't be able to resist you," the Beast growled. He was clearly struggling with himself—eyeing Remus' lips with that same feral hunger.

"But look at me," he whispered, his breathing becoming erratic. "I've put you in front of me…the ultimate temptation…and I'm resisting."

The Beast ran a fur-covered paw down the side of Remus' face in a caress. "My mate," he whispered, an almost loving tone to his voice.

He stepped back quickly and turned away.

"As if we are _both_ animals," he spat.

"Go," he said, his back still turned to Remus.

"_What_?" the smaller boy could not contain the distress he felt at those words.

"I said go. You're free."

"But I thought—"

"GO!" the Beast roared.

When Remus did not move, the Beast looked up suddenly, his gray eyes wild with passion.

"Go," he whispered desperately. "_Please_."

A moment later, the Beast had stormed out—leaving Remus standing alone against the wall of his darkened room.

Remus had not even noticed the fire burn out.

* * *

Hours later, when he stalked away from the castle, the snow crunching under his heavy boots, he could not shake the bitter chill he had caught from the dying embers.

He was _cold_.


	3. Rough Tongues and Smooth Skin

**Part 3 – ****Rough Tongues and Smooth Skin**

It was strange to think how quickly the memory of his father's face had begun to fade when he had been living inside the castle. Remus waited patiently for the ache, the _pull_, he felt for the Beast to lessen in the same way after he had turned his back on him.

Surely, he reasoned, no one could miss someone they hardly knew.

But as winter melted into spring, Remus only felt the pull tug harder at his heart and, unlike his father's face, the memory of the Beast was, if anything, glowing brighter in his mind. It was as if the last remaining member of Remus' family was _meant_ to be a memory; some old, fading portrait of his past. But the Beast, the _Master_, was not ready to be forgotten.

When he first arrived in the village several months before, too fatigued and aching to notice the cold anymore, he found his father waiting in a local pub with a small – and very recently acquired – fortune.

"One of the servants from the castle delivered this," his father had informed him quietly. "Apparently the Beast took quite a liking to you, lad. The man said he was adamant that you are taken care of...but with this amount, we'll _both_ be living comfortably for many years."

Remus had stared at the greedy, round face for several minutes, unsure of what to say in response.

Even weeks later he could not deny that after seeing his father's cold eyes, he had wanted to run back to the castle, back to the Beast, as fast as he could.

He wanted something, _needed_ something. He just did not want to think about what it was.

For several weeks, his father gambled at local pubs; insatiable and continually eager to increase the amount of money they possessed. Each night Remus would watch as his father counted the money, holding each coin with something akin to reverence.

In moments like those, Remus would be reminded of the Beast's growling, reproachful voice when he had reprimanded his father for risking something he was not willing to lose. Remus knew, without a flicker of doubt, that his father would risk losing him again if it meant more money.

Strangely, his stomach did not clench in grief at the thought as it might once have.

Remus forgot how he had managed to convince his father to leave for the next village without him.

Perhaps he had promised to follow him in a few days time. Perhaps he had convinced his father he had a way of making more money if he stayed here. Perhaps he had simply told him to go.

It did not matter much now.

Remus had taken a small amount of the money and waved his father off – all the while wondering why he still did not feel anything remotely like loss at the sight of his father's back.

In truth, he was afraid that the ache would get stronger the further he went from the castle.

It was hardly bearable as it was.

Remus was stuck; undeniably trapped between two lives with no idea which one to pursue. The pull he felt to stay would not allow him to trail after his father like a lost puppy; but his bloody pride would not let him run back to the Beast like some wanton, love-struck girl.

Every night he would lie alone in his room at the inn and try to imagine a life not centered on cards or money or games and if ever he considered following his father – whether out of loyalty or loneliness – he would remember that the man had gambled him away like he was nothing more than a few gold coins.

Whenever he thought of that, the full extent of his lone existence would hit him sharply in the stomach like some large, meaty fist punching him into awareness.

He had no one. Not really.

No friends, no family, no lover.

He often wondered if the Beast was just as lonely as he was. Granted, unlike Remus, the Beast lived with servants...but what of his family? Did he have any friends or lovers? Did he even want any?

When Remus undressed at night, he would shamefully imagine the gray eyes were still on him, hungry and determined. Sometimes he did not know whether he was imagining the man or the Beast licking his neck, touching him, _watching_ him.

_Both_, he sometimes thought.

Most nights he would dream about the rough tongue of the Beast and the smooth skin of the Master's back and he would lie awake, blushing and aroused, until sunrise.

For the most part, though, the days blended together.

By the time the winter frost had melted entirely, the image of the Beast had not even begun to fade from his mind.

The pull had not lessened its incessant tugging.

His father had not come back.

Hardly anything had changed, really.

And so it was not until a particularly warm evening in spring that anything happened to give him reason to return to the castle or to the Beast that occupied it.

Remus was seated at a table in the corner of the dark, smoky pub below the inn. The sleeves of his white shirt had been rolled up to his elbows and he could feel some hair that had escaped the silver clasp sticking to his sweaty forehead. He was just contemplating returning to his room to clean up and cool off when a soft, sweet voice spoke into his ear.

"You are unhappy."

The tone was light and teasing but something about the way the words were spoken gave Remus the impression that it was more than just an innocent observation. When he turned, he found a pale, delicate face staring up at him.

He had not noticed anyone sit down.

The woman's white-blonde hair fell in waves over her shoulders and although the dim light managed to catch the glint in her eyes, he could not tell what color they were.

She could not have been much older than he was, he realized. Had they met before?

Just as he opened his mouth to respond to her rather blunt statement and ask if they had, in fact, been introduced at some point, she leaned in closer and her lips brushed gently against his ear.

"What is it that you _want_, Remus? Hm? Money?"

Startled to hear his own name, Remus tried to lean back to get a better look at the girl but she grabbed tightly to the collar of his shirt and continued to whisper.

"A lover?"

He stiffened slightly at the word and the girl laughed.

"No? Are you sure? What about a _home_ then?" she whispered, her voice suddenly harsh and mocking. "I know how _lost_ you must be feeling right now ... and it just so happens that I know of a little castle that will be vacant very soon."

The woman bit his ear softly and let one of her hands rest lightly on his thigh.

Remus' eyes scanned the room but none of the men appeared to notice the two figures seated in the dark corner.

"Perhaps you have heard of its current master?" she continued in a low voice.

Her hand travelled up the length of his thigh.

"You see he's not a typical master," she informed him softly, as if she was sharing some sweet secret with a lover. "He's a Beast. An _animal_..."

Remus tried again to pry her small hand from his shirt but when their skin made contact he felt a burning heat sear his skin and he let go instantly.

She let out a harsh burst of laughter.

"Oh, don't tell me you _feel_ something for him, Remus? You were hardly there for more than a few days."

Remus froze, but either she did not notice his reaction or did not care, and she continued speaking in her soft, dangerous voice.

"Besides," she whispered. "He is selfish. Cold. _Unworthy_. Nothing more than an animal waiting to be hunted."

Remus felt his stomach clench and he desperately wanted to argue – but he was still too stunned by the whole incident to respond.

"Isn't that right, Remus?"

He felt shaken and unnerved but when he spoke his voice was firm and he was surprised at the threatening tone it had adopted.

"_No_."

She laughed shrilly and cruelly and Remus cringed at the sound.

"Ah, well," she muttered finally, her laughter dying down. The girl's pretty face was twisted with mock concern but when she stared into his eyes, she looked hungry for his response.

"Too late now," she breathed.

* * *

It took him longer than he expected to reach the castle grounds.

The rising sun was already casting its first light across the large pond and, as Remus slid past the gates, he noticed that the ice had melted from it. It looked calm and peaceful now. When he walked past it, he saw fish swimming gaily in the cool water.

He could not help but shiver at the sight.

The memory of being pulled from the icy depths, from death, made him feel terribly vulnerable.

Within seconds, Remus' gaze had returned to the castle and he sprinted towards the large front doors, the fear welling up inside of him once more.

_What would he find?_

He knocked loudly, anxiously waiting for the servant's familiar face to appear and welcome him in; to reassure him that the Master was healthy and unharmed.

When no one came, Remus pushed impatiently at the door, abandoning his usual sense of propriety, and was relieved to find that it was again unlocked.

Once inside, he did not look for the servants to help him search the castle or go from room to room calling out to the Beast.

He knew where to go without asking or searching.

It almost felt like a dream as the pull drew him up the stairs and back towards the room of the Beast.

When he finally reached the familiar door, large and ominous, he hesitated.

"_Nothing more than an animal waiting to be hunted."_

The woman's voice echoed in his mind and he was struggling hard to ignore it.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open slowly and peered around the expansive room. His eyes scanned over meaningless objects but they could find nothing worth settling on.

The room was empty.

"_Too late now."_

His heart sped up and he felt adrenaline course through him.

_What had happened here?_

He cursed his pride for keeping him away for so long.

It felt _right _to be back here.

But where was the Beast?

Remus sat heavily on the bed. He had been so _sure_ about what he felt; about the pull. The Beast should have been there.

He let his head fall to rest in his hands and an exhausted sigh escaped him.

"Remus?"

He jumped at the sound of the voice and his eyes flew around the room until they found its source.

_Oh lord._

It was as if the statue from the entrance hall had come to life.

A handsome man stood before him at the entrance to what Remus assumed must be a private bathroom.

_Why hadn't he noticed it before?_

The black hair was dripping with water and a hastily wrapped towel was adorning the narrow hips.

The man had been _bathing_.

Remus opened his mouth to say something but found the sight before him required too much of his attention. He watched, enraptured, as tiny droplets of water rolled over the broad chest and down past the flat stomach to settle on the top edges of the towel. He repeated the same path back up until he reached the unshaven face.

The statue, even in all of its magnificence, had not managed to capture the true beauty of the man's features.

The pull became unbearable in an instant and, as if in a dream, he allowed it to pull him across the room.

The gray eyes studied his movement unblinkingly; the man's fists clenched tighter with every step that brought them closer.

When they stood no more than a foot apart, the tension between them spiked.

He was not sure which one of them rushed forward first but before he could stop to think, their mouths had crashed together forcefully. The lust that coursed through Remus was agonizing. In one small corner of his mind he remembered the Beast scoffing at the thought of both of them being animals but in that moment he felt certain his actions were not those of a man.

His own lips were as hungry and demanding as the other man's. He felt nimble fingers thread through his hair and gently tug at the strands, desperately trying to keep him close, before the man let out a low growl and pulled roughly out of their embrace.

"Remus, I –," he broke off, his face scrunched up in a mixture of desire and concern. "You shouldn't be here," he said finally, and although the man was undoubtedly serious, his voice lacked conviction.

Remus was having trouble finding an appropriate response.

The towel that covered the man's lower half had slid down an inch during their heated embrace and Remus licked his lips as he imagined how much more might be revealed to his hungry eyes if he were to try stealing another quick kiss.

"Don't do that."

His eyes flew back to the handsome face at the raw huskiness of the deep voice.

The gray eyes were staring at his lips, captivated, and the large hands were once again clenched into fists at the man's sides. It was as if he was trying desperately to maintain control of his own body.

Before either one of them could say or do anything else, there was a sharp knock on the door followed immediately by the familiar voice of the servant.

The Master had a guest waiting downstairs.

Remus felt a sharp stab of fear.

_What guest? Had the strange woman from the pub sent someone to carry out her threat? Was the Master only alive because Remus had made it to the castle before the hunter had?_

His fearful speculating went unnoticed.

The handsome man cursed softly in what Remus assumed must be relief at the interruption. His voice was once again clear when he called out a response.

Pulling his towel up and determinedly avoiding eye contact, the tall figure retreated to the private bathroom and, much to Remus' disappointment, returned fully clothed only a few moments later.

The gray eyes stared straight ahead at the door as he spoke, as if the man was afraid of what he might do if he looked at Remus again.

"You should go," he said softly.

Remus did not move any closer to the handsome man – lingering jolts of arousal were still pulsing through him – but when he replied he was certain the pleading tone in his voice exposed the fear he had suppressed upon seeing the half-naked form.

"Don't go down there," Remus whispered.

One large hand twitched in response to the tone of his voice and Remus imagined for a moment that the man might cross the room to comfort him.

"Don't go," he repeated more firmly. "There was a woman in the village. I...I think she's sent someone to harm you."

The man stood very still for several seconds, his eyes still fixed on the door ahead of him.

Remus waited for him to turn and ask questions about the woman, about the village, about anything.

But after taking one last deep shuddering breath, the man stalked the rest of the way out of the room, leaving a trembling Remus entirely alone with his thoughts.

* * *

The Master was alive. Unharmed. Safe.

Still, Remus could not move from his place on the large bed.

After checking up on him and trying – albeit, unsuccessfully – to get Remus to return to the room he had previously occupied, the maid assured him several times that the Master's guest was far from dangerous and that the Master was more than capable of protecting himself if need be.

Remus leaned back against the pillows with a heavy sigh.

He did not know what to think or say or _do_ about the woman he had met in the pub; about his father; about the Beast. He only knew that he felt more at ease than he had in months and, if only for the sake of not aggravating the pull any more, he did not want to leave the comfort of the Master's bedroom.

The exhaustion accumulated from his trek to the castle was getting harder to ignore.

He rolled onto his side, moving down the bed slightly, and pulling one of the full, white pillows along with him.

As Remus tugged it closer, he felt something soft being moved out from under it.

Inexplicably curious to find out what the Beast would keep so close, Remus had pulled the crumpled cloth from its hiding place before he could stop himself.

White cotton.

Buttons.

A shirt.

A small bit of pleasure coursed through him.

It was one of _his_ shirts.

The Beast must have taken it before he left.

With his heart still pounding in his chest, Remus stretched out again and let the sun warm his shivering skin.

He imagined the piercing gray eyes on him once more and he stared at the door, hoping desperately for the Beast's return, until finally out of sheer exhaustion, he succumbed to sleep.

* * *

When Remus next stirred, he could no longer feel the sunshine warming his cheeks.

He opened heavy eyelids to find himself still alone in the large, now darkened, bedroom of the Beast. He laid there for several minutes, allowing thought after thought to flit through his mind at a sickeningly swift pace.

_Sharp fingernails digging into his thigh as a woman whispered threats into his ear._

_Running until he was out of breath and still not stopping._

_The fear._

_The relief at seeing the Beast...no. The statue. The man._

_Those gray eyes._

_That kiss. That perfect, searing kiss._

_The fear returning._

_The bereft feeling that filled him when he was left all alone._

_His shirt...tucked safely away in a pillowcase – as if it was something precious. Something treasured. Something beloved._

He might have smiled at the memory of his discovery – and the feelings it stirred within him – but the fear returned instantly when his eyes fell on the tall, darkened window.

It must have been hours since the man had gone to meet with his guest.

_Why had he not returned?_

Immediately Remus' tired eyes were wide and alert. The absence of the pull that he had grown so accustomed to was suddenly and terribly unnerving.

He sat up and slid from the bed quickly, exiting the room without so much as a backward glance at his crumpled white shirt.

As if anticipating Remus' movement from the room – as any good servant would – a familiar thin figure appeared almost magically at the end of the long hallway. He matched Remus' speedy strides and when they were no more than a few steps apart, he held up a hand to silence any questions Remus might have for him.

"The Master is in his study," he informed him quietly.

_Safe?_

The servant stood motionless for a moment, looking thoughtfully at Remus.

"It was good of you to return," he said finally. "The Master has not been himself since you left."

Remus' heart fluttered. _He_ had not been himself since he had been given to the Beast as a form of payment. He shook his head.

"He told me to go," Remus muttered, unsure why he felt the need to defend himself. "He did not want me here anymore."

The servant shook his head too, a sad smile gracing his thin, dry lips.

"The Master wished to protect you," he said softly. "Though I daresay you are far safer in his presence than in anyone else's."

Remus immediately thought of the hungry, dangerous wolves and the icy depths of the pond that the Beast had saved him from. After a moment, he remembered his father agreeing to part with him for the sake of another round of cards and he wondered if the servant wasn't referring to his lack of safety in the presence of the older man.

"Is it safe to assume that you received the...gift that the Master sent upon your departure?"

His father, indeed.

"Yes, thank you. The Beast –the _Master_," he corrected himself – much to their mutual astonishment –, "is much too generous. I expect my father will be quite happy with his life for many years."

The man looked at him with a serious expression on his gaunt face.

"And you, Remus?"

Remus looked away.

"I have never really wanted anything. Not until –," he broke off.

_Not until I came _here_. Not until I met _him_._

The servant stepped closer and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I cannot promise you that a life here would be easy, Remus," he spoke softly, careful to scan the hallway to make sure they would not be overheard. "The Master is stubborn, there is no denying it."

Remus swallowed, his heart racing at the prospect of living in the castle again. He had the sudden – and wildly inappropriate – thought that perhaps he should offer to undress for the Beast each evening that he stayed there...if only to offer something in return for his room and food.

Much to his embarrassment, the idea was highly arousing. He blushed deeply as the servant continued to speak to him.

"For all his attempts to order you away, Remus, he would never really throw you out," the servant assured him in a low tone. "Not after he has waited all these years for you to come."

Remus frowned, pushing his lascivious thoughts to the back of his mind for a moment.

"What do you mean? How could he have possibly known my father and I would come here?"

The servant stared at him for awhile without saying anything.

"It is not my story to tell," he admitted finally. His back straightened and the kindness that shone in his eyes when he first saw Remus was replaced by a look of calm indifference.

He was once again the Master's most competent servant.

"The Master is in his study," he repeated firmly.

And with one last stiff bow, the servant strode away.

* * *

Somehow, Remus had managed not to retreat to the bedroom he once occupied.

He stood for awhile facing the familiar door to the study.

_What would he say to the Beast? Should he tell him about the pull he felt? The desire? If he did, would he be tossed out of the room or thrown up against the wall?_

Remus flushed at the prospect of revealing any of his thoughts to the Beast.

Before he could lose his nerve, he turned the handle and pushed the door open without knocking.

He stepped slowly into the darkened room.

"I thought I told you to leave here," the Beast's voice rumbled from across the room.

Remus shivered at the sound of it. It had been so long, _too_ long, since he had last heard it.

He walked further into the room and shut the door behind him.

"I wanted to thank you," he whispered, ignoring the Beast's statement. "My father and I are greatly indebted to you."

Remus stepped closer to the large chair holding the cloaked Beast and he heard the large figure shift slightly in his seat.

"Get out."

Remus shivered at the dangerous tone but did not slow his approach until he was only a few feet away.

"Now," the Beast growled.

For a moment, Remus thought he might actually do as he was told – just like he had all those months ago – but where would he go this time? Back to a father who did not care for him? Back to an inn where he could do nothing but eat, sleep and think longingly of his days in the Beast's presence?

"I want to stay with you," Remus stated quietly.

The Beast said nothing.

"Please," he added.

Remus waited for some reaction – a growl, a shout, a kiss– anything would have been sufficient.

The Beast said nothing, though, and Remus could not tell whether or not the gray eyes were still staring at him.

He desperately hoped they were.

"Let me prove it," he whispered and in an anxious attempt to break the Beast's silence, Remus reached up quickly and slowly started to open the buttons on his shirt.

_Please, please, don't send me away._

The Beast was on his feet in an instant.

"Don't," he rumbled softly.

Remus stopped, his hands frozen on the button just below his chest.

When the Beast next spoke, he sounded thoroughly regretful. "I should never have asked you to do that."

The words, spoken apologetically, stung Remus.

Had the Beast been disappointed by what he saw? Is that why he had told Remus to go? Why, then, had the man kissed him so passionately earlier?

A sudden, horrible thought occurred to Remus.

There were not many people who came to the castle. Why would a willing partner – a _very_ willing one, Remus thought with shame – be turned away from the Master's bed?

He shivered.

What, then, had Lumiere meant about the Beast waiting for Remus?

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not notice the Beast move around him until he felt something touch the back of his neck.

"Why did you come back?"

Remus exhaled slowly, trying not to get distracted by the gentle pressure on his neck.

"I thought you were in danger."

There was a low growl but the sweet touches to his neck did not stop.

"I'm not," the Beast answered quietly.

Remus thought he heard the Beast inhale deeply then.

Was he _smelling_ him?

The whimper he made at the thought did not go unnoticed by the Beast – who, in misunderstanding the sound, quickly released his careful hold on Remus' neck and moved away.

Much to his mortification, Remus whimpered again at the loss of the touches and turned to face the large, cloaked figure.

"I have thought of nothing but you since I left," he breathed the words quickly and quietly, afraid that saying them too loudly might scare the Beast away.

Remus carefully closed the distance between them once more and stared up into the gray eyes, his heart pounding.

"Have you felt it too?" he asked softly, the rational part of his brain was shouting at him to stop talking but he could not. "The ache...the _pain_ from being separated?"

Remus heard the sound of fabric against fabric and he imagined the Beast clenching his fists...his paws...as tightly as the handsome man had after their heated kiss.

"You need to go, Remus," the Beast's rumbling voice betrayed its owner's quickly dissipating self-control. "I can't keep..."

"You don't have to," Remus breathed.

And then –

He was up against the wall with a surprisingly warm nose burrowed in his neck, inhaling his scent deeply, _hungrily_. His shirt was ripped open roughly but when the strong hands pulled it from his body, it was with such gentle motions that he hardly felt the fabric leave his skin.

The Beast nuzzled Remus' chest and stomach lovingly and then, as if worshipping the body in front of him, he kneeled and began licking every inch of the exposed porcelain skin with his rough tongue. Remus' moans filled the room when the talented tongue started lapping at his chest and neck.

No one had ever kissed him, much less _licked_ him, like that.

When the Beast seemed satisfied with having tasted Remus' skin, he remained kneeled before him and rested his covered head against Remus' thigh.

"I'll give you anything you want...anything at all," he growled softly. "If you promise to stay."

Remus leant his head back against the wall – an indescribable feeling flooded through him. Relief? Excitement? Desire?

He stared into the gray eyes – the only part of the Beast he could see – and felt himself nod silently in response.

Without a word, the Beast stood, towering over Remus once more, and held out one fur-covered paw. Remus eagerly grasped it and allowed himself to be led through the halls in a daze of arousal and disbelief. The ache was completely gone now but it had been replaced by something new, something _primal_, that he did not yet understand.

When they finally reached the Beast's room, his pulse raced at the thought of what might happen.

They quickly settled themselves on the bed and Remus held his breath in anticipation.

The possibilities were thrilling.

_Would they kiss? Touch? Would he feel the rough tongue on his skin again?_

After several long minutes of lying in silence, Remus could finally feel the Beast's reluctance.

_Not tonight._

Remus found he did not mind.

When the Beast reached for him and pulled him close and two strong arms encircled him tightly, afraid to let him go, he was surprised to discover how content he felt lying there. He was even more surprised at how quickly he felt himself being lulled to sleep by the soothing growls of the Beast.

_There was no rush. He was back._

* * *

Something was tickling his fingertips.

Remus could feel the warm sunshine on his skin again, relaxing him, but it did not take long for the pleasurable tickling sensation to pull him from his sleep.

He opened his heavy eyelids to stare lazily around the familiar room.

He felt a strong arm still resting heavily on his waist, holding him in place. His bare back was pressed tightly against a hard, clothed chest.

_It wasn't a dream then._

One of Remus' hands was raised in the air above his head and he felt his breathing quicken at the source of the tickling.

The handsome man, his Beast, was alternating between kissing, nipping, and sucking on his fingertips. The gray eyes were sparkling with mischief and affection as they stared down at him.

Remus flushed at his body's quick response to the sight.

The dark-haired man laughed deeply, a low and rumbling sound reminiscent of the Beast, and leaned down until his lips brushed against Remus' ear.

"Changed your mind?" he breathed.

Remus swallowed hard.

"No," he answered firmly.

The man lifted his head again and stared down at him.

"Hm."

Remus could see the struggle in the man's eyes. Despite the sweet awakening, he was still hesitant, _worried_ even, about allowing Remus to stay with him.

"I don't want to go," Remus told him softly.

They continued to stare at each other for awhile. The gray eyes were impatient as they studied his features_._

_Like he's trying to memorize them_, Remus thought.

The handsome man did not seem to tire of the sight of his face and Remus felt himself blush once more under the intense scrutiny.

That strange new feeling from the night before returned full force.

When he looked up at the man above him – the dark hair falling in the handsome face, the gray eyes drinking in the sight of him eagerly – he felt an immeasurable amount of lust course through him.

With bravery and desire he did not recognize as his own, he closed the distance between them and leaned up to capture the smooth lips with his.

The man inhaled sharply at the sudden movement, no doubt surprised by Remus' bold move, but it did not take long for him to respond with equal fervor. Remus' action seemed to trigger something within him.

Large hands rose to cup his face, to hold it still, as the man's tongue delved into his mouth, searching, probing, _tasting_.

Remus groaned loudly.

When the man was satisfied with his exploration of Remus' mouth, he leaned back to nip sharply at his lips, soothing them every so often with his talented tongue.

"Will you undress for me tonight?" he whispered huskily, eagerly, against Remus' lips. "Just one more time..."

The man moved away from his lips to nuzzle at his neck like the Beast had the night before.

Remus felt his face grow warm at the question. It was not the idea of undressing in front of the Beast that had him flustered – but his own longing to do it again and the shameful thought that he would happily do it more than just once.

"Yes," he hissed back, just as the man began tugging at his own cloak – never breaking contact between his lips and Remus' neck. "I would do it every night if you asked me."

The man pulled back sharply to stare down at him with lust-clouded eyes.

He studied Remus' expression and, seeing the truth in his words, another binding on the man's self-control snapped.

He finished tearing the cloak from his body and Remus was immediately granted a view of the man's naked body.

_The Beast didn't wear anything under the cloak...?_

Remus whimpered.

The man, suddenly more wild, more impatient, gave Remus a growl and leaned down to nudge his nose against the hardness in Remus' trousers.

"I need you, Remus," he warned, raggedly. "I won't let you go. _Can't_ let you go. Not again."

Remus did not think his heart could beat any faster. He reached down, his hands trembling with need, and pulled at the button on his trousers. He was thankful that the Beast had already ripped his shirt off the night before. One less layer to remove. One less barrier between their skin.

Strong, eager hands gripped the tops of his trousers and pants and tugged down roughly.

The gray eyes darkened at the sight of Remus' freed arousal.

In the next moment, they were flush up against one another, their bodies melding together tightly. They both groaned at the sensation of hardness meeting hardness and the man thrust once sharply against him causing Remus to mewl and dig his heels into the soft bed beneath them to keep from desperately rutting against the hard body above him.

He was too lost in his passion, his desire, to keep from doing it for long. Soon their hard lengths were rubbing against each other, and Remus had a feeling it was his own movements causing the friction.

The tongue was at his neck again, nipping and marking him possessively.

Remus felt sharp teeth against his windpipe suddenly, trying to make his movements slow, and he found himself responding instinctually. With a low moan of longing, he stilled his hips.

_As if we are both animals._

Remus vaguely noted how ironic it was that the man seemed more animalistic than the Beast had the previous evening.

With one more growl in warning, the man released his hold on Remus' neck and began kissing and licking his way down the lean, irresistible body below him.

"You taste so good," the husky voice murmured against his stomach. "Better than I imagined."

Remus was just about to respond when he saw the smooth, traveling lips close around his hardness without hesitation – as if _that_ was just one more part of Remus to taste.

Remus gasped at the new – and breathtaking – sensation of having smooth lips and a hot, wet mouth around his arousal. He began writhing uncontrollably and only barely resisted the temptation to thrust upward – if only to see what it would feel like. But he was absurdly _afraid_ that the mouth would stop its ministrations to move up and take hold of his neck again instead. The loss of the attention on his nether regions would be devastating.

He watched, his arousal quickly building, as the man licked him thoroughly.

Just as quickly as he had started, the man pulled his mouth away to move back up Remus' body.

The gleaming gray eyes stared down at him with an unreadable emotion swirling within them.

"You came back," the man murmured against his lips.

Unexpectedly, Remus felt one of the man's fingers trail down his erection, dragging some of the wetness left on it from the man's mouth. He jumped when he felt the wet appendage probe at his entrance.

"You came back to me," he whispered again, staring down into Remus' eyes with that same indefinable look.

Remus moaned loudly when he felt the finger push past the ring of muscle and slide inside of him.

"I waited for you, Remus," the man's voice was husky with desire.

The finger continued to push in and out of him, drawing low growls from Remus, before it was joined by another.

The feeling made Remus close his eyes in pleasure. He had never felt anything like it before. He groaned as the fingers continued to gently caress him, to prepare him.

"Please," he whispered, when the man gave no indication that he was going to stop twisting his fingers around inside of him. As pleasurable as it was, it was not enough.

_More. Please more._

The fingers thrust into him a few more times before they pulled out completely.

Remus' eyes snapped open at the loss.

"Remus," the man murmured, moving both hands up to support his weight on either side of Remus' head. He shifted his lower body and Remus squirmed slightly, impatient.

"Look at me, Remus," he whispered. "Keep your eyes on mine."

Remus swallowed in anticipation and complied, raising both hands to comb the black hair out of the man's face.

_Soft. Like the Beast's fur._

"No one's touched you like this before," the man sounded both tense and elated at the same time.

Remus did not bother denying the statement. Of course no one had touched him like this. He had never wanted anybody the way he wanted the man, the beast.

Now why oh why would the man not just _move_ again?

As soon as he finished the thought, he felt something decidedly hard – and significantly larger than a finger – nudge at his opening.

"I'll make it up to you, Remus."

Before Remus could ask what he meant, he felt the man's thick arousal start to push its way into him. He exhaled sharply and instantly understood the man's promise.

Taking deep breaths to keep from crying out, he kept his eyes trained on the gray orbs looking down apologetically at him. The man inched forward slowly, his own eyes never leaving Remus' face. Remus bit his lip as he felt himself being filled completely.

"You feel so good," the man said, looking almost shy for a moment.

When the man was fully sheathed inside of him they both remained impossibly still until the pain finally subsided.

Remus shakily raised a hand to the man's back and encouraged him to move with soft presses to the smooth skin.

The man slid out of him slowly, breathing heavily as he did so, before inching his way back in at a slightly faster pace than before.

Remus squirmed with impatience.

The pain was not entirely gone but most of it had been replaced with a considerable amount of pleasure and Remus wanted to feel _more_ of it. With his hand still resting on the broad back, he applied a bit more pressure, pulling the man's hardness into him faster and hoping that the man understood what he needed.

The man growled, the hint of shyness Remus had glimpsed earlier completely absent from his eyes now. He leaned down to capture Remus' lips in a passionate kiss as he pulled out once more and thrust in hard and fast.

They both sighed out their relief into one another's mouth.

_More._

A strong hand reached down quickly to grasp Remus' erection and the man began stroking it in time with his now frantic, deep thrusts.

Remus felt his pleasure mounting; he never imagined it could feel like this. He leaned forward to nuzzle the pale, unblemished neck, surprised at the almost animalistic urge to do so.

With a decidedly sharp and well-angled thrust, the man hit a spot inside Remus that had him clutching the sheets under them in one hand and the muscled back in the other. He gasped once more and with a low moan, he spilled his seed over the man's hand.

Unable to look away from the thrashing body below him, the man thrust into him several more times, his gray eyes focused and unblinking.

As their bodies joined together with each thrust, the man swiped his tongue over Remus' parted lips once more.

"You came back to me, Remus," the man whispered again, marvelling at his own words and spilling his own release into Remus' waiting body.

* * *

Several hours later, on the grounds outside of the castle, a slender, feminine form stood alone under the light of the moon.

Her pretty silver eyes looked satisfied as they stared up at the dimly lit room in silence. She waited patiently for the candle in the Beast's room to flicker out; the last little light in that large, dark castle.

Only when the darkness overtook the space completely did the girl stalk towards the castle, her eyes gleaming maliciously.


End file.
